


Hedonistic Sorcerer Alliance for the Scum King

by Aviantei



Category: Last Round Arthurs
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, OC insert, POV Second Person, That time I got reincarnated as an OP sorcerer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:40:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23640217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviantei/pseuds/Aviantei
Summary: You've been through this song and dance before, so you're honestly not fucking impressed. Magami Rintarou on the other hand... He's kind of new to this reincarnation thing, and he could probably use some help.
Kudos: 3





	1. Hedonistic Sorcerer Alliance for the Scum King

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Horseshoes and Hand Grenades](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9458783) by [Vroomian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vroomian/pseuds/Vroomian). 



**Hedonistic Sorcerer Alliance for the Scum King**

A _Last Round Arthurs_ One Shot

By: Aviantei

^^^^  
lo0ol

You've been through this song and dance before, so you're honestly not fucking impressed.

Reincarnation is nothing new. You've been through more lives than you can count, though you don't always remember them right away. Sometimes you know who you were in your previous life, and that's all you get. Sometimes the memories are vague impressions, things that you don't recognize until way later, when the right trigger comes along. Sometimes you come into being as a fully sentient person who can recall almost every detail of your past lives from the moment your developing body in the womb can register it.

This round is one of those.

It's also one of the rounds where you're unnecessarily talented. Anything you've dabbled in during a previous life, your current brain and body can pull off no problem. Things you've never even thought about before? You can do them, too. Your parents are proud, your teachers are amazed, you're the world's next genius in a toddler's body.

You consider not pursuing any of these avenues. This isn't the first time you've had such an existence.

(You remember long days where time didn't matter, a darkness seeping into your heart. You remembering struggling to live, even when you could have done anything and everything.

You remember isolating yourself, intentionally showing off what you can do so others would push you away, abandon you like you wanted to abandon yourself.

You remember the warm wash of gold, the lovely shade of pink, how both of them found you and pulled you back into the light, accepted you for everything you were, even all the awful pieces that were so, _so_ selfish.)

Someone like that just might find you again, if you're lucky. So what the hell's the point in not taking advantage of every blessing you've been given?

^^^^  
lo0ol

You very quickly decide on three rules to serve as the cornerstone for this life:

Fuck holding back.

Fuck gender.

Fuck people who dislike you because of rules one and two.

You have patience for absolutely zero of these circumstances, and you're not going to put up with them. You can't control other people, but you sure can control how you react to them. That'll be good enough.

With all that settled, you easily make your place in the world. You take assessment tests and blast through the qualifications for elementary, middle, high school, and then several undergraduate and graduate degrees. You take brief stints in sports and photography, in whatever catches your damn fancy. You become something of a worldwide sensation, but your young physical age protects you from most of the hassle of interviews. Not that you give people the time of day for that shit. You have money to make, subjects to study, life to live. Anyone that wants to hound you can find themselves on the receiving end of a middle finger or a martial art of your choice, if you're feeling saucy.

After the first paparazzi member almost has a broken nose, the rest get the hint.

^^^^  
lo0ol

It's in middle school that you find the magic, or maybe the magic finds you.

You did your homework the moment you had enough capability to do so. A world not too unlike what most people would consider "ordinary," a little bit further along in the future and with some advanced technology. Overall, things looking pretty normal, but you suppose a lot of places are like that—magic bubbling just under the surface, known to the select few and often granted to even fewer.

Just like everything else, once you know it's an option, you're _good_ at it.

And from there things get clearer and clearer by pieces. The rest of the existing magical community. The Dame du Lac. The battle for the succession of a certain mythological hero. The book series on the library shelf, bearing the inauspicious title:

_Last Round Arthur._

Part of you responds, one of your many chains of memories. _Scum Arthur and Heretic Merlin._ A boisterous blonde girl wielding a sword, aided by her fanservice designated knight. It's definitely not the first time you've played _this_ game, either, the one where you reincarnate into a world that was nothing but fiction in another life. You could shrug it off, avoid canon, stay out of it. There have been times where you basically rewrote history, too.

_But didn't this world also have reincarnation?_

Yes, it did. Aside from the metaphysical questions about the whole multiple heirs to King Arthur, the Sirs were their preserved forms from the original Round Table—you think. The memories from some random book one of your past selves read who knows how many lifetimes ago tend to be fuzzy. At least until whatever weird blessing the universe slapped on you again kicks in, and then it comes to you.

 _Merlin._ That was half of the premise, wasn't it? Reincarnated Merlin who's beyond bored with the world, who views his talent as more of a curse. Someone so cynical that you can't help but get a bitter taste in your mouth from the memories.

(It's been so, _so_ long since you wallowed in that darkness.)

You consider not bothering with canon, try to decide it before your conscience catches up with you. You're too late; you've already remembered the so-called Heretic Merlin's name in this era: _Magami Rintarou._ Well, that is, assuming you're even in the right era. Given the universe's track record, you wouldn't be surprised if you were.

It wouldn't be hard to check.

_Just check._

_Yeah right,_ another part of your brain says, and it has the memories to back it up.

This round is one of those, indeed.

^^^^  
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As suspected, it's _not_ hard to find him. At least, not for you. You have All The Resources, worldly and magical. Hell, just poking around a bit means that you have way more information than you could ever want on him. You save the address and toss the rest. You know enough based on what you remember from reading canon.

_Just check._

What a pathetic fucking joke. It starts with you lounging around on your bed one night, watching some let's play, and the next thing you know you've teleported halfway across the damn globe on a whim. It was late back home, and here it's just barely past dawn. Still a weekend, though, which means the neighborhood is sleepy and quiet and Magami Rintarou is likely still asleep, enjoying his rest. Or, maybe not, if he's reached peak edgelord already. How old is he even; how many items on his laundry list of emotional traumas has he gone through so far?

If you talked to him, would he even care that you could offer him another path besides absolute boredom? If you're really going to get involved with this, you should at least figure out how far you are ahead of canon. At least a little bit, since the Dame du Lac haven't announced the King Arthur Succession Battle yet. You could be ruining a perfectly satisfied Magami Rintarou's life if you show up talking like you know everything.

You should go home, back to your cushy life and your let's plays.

You should let it fucking _go_ , because you know the universe will ultimately drag canon onto your goddamn doorstep whether you like it or not, and you should cherish the moments of peace that you have, because who knows what's going to happen next.

(Peaceful everyday life, the smile of your friend, eyes of brilliant green, kind laughter, another missed opportunity for a quiet existence because neither of you have zero idea how to keep your fucking nose out of everything, look what you did then, do you really want to do it again now? To someone who will be just fine without you, to someone who doesn't even know you exist?)

_Go home, dammit._

You can feel the magic pulsing inside you though, like the goddamn itch it is.

_Stop trying to drag someone else into your problems, you irresponsible brat._

You want to use it to blow away this damn neighborhood, to challenge someone else that can actually take on your power to a fight.

 _Go. The fuck._ Home.

But it's there in the back of your mind, more powerful than the memories. The first rule you made, the one you wanted to live by, no matter what.

_**Fuck holding back.** _

You have just enough state of mind around you to not flatten the whole surrounding suburban area as you send out a pulse of magical aura, the kind that any self-respecting magic user would be able to recognize—let alone the reincarnated ancient and overpowered wizard less than a hundred meters away from you. You wait ten seconds, just to give him enough time to wake up and register what the hell's going on, and then you move.

You also resist the urge to blast a hole in his ceiling and instead teleport straight inside his room. You can see the bags under his eyes, and you straighten your hijab. A few beats of silence pass—and you smile, though you're sure the expression is way more teeth than genuine happiness. You can feel the defensive aura he's put up, and it's basically on par with yours—and _you forgot how exhilarating it was to stand on equal par with someone else, it's been too long._

"Merlin," you say, as if you're greeting an old friend.

"Who the fuck are you?" he says, voice purring down to a growl. The language he's using doesn't matter. You're pretty sure you both can speak all of them anyways, curse words included.

"You can call me Safir." It's not the name you got when you were born into this world, and it's not a name you've ever had before, but you might as well keep up the _Matter of Britain_ schtick while you still can. "You look bored out of your damn mind. Wanna fight?"

" _Hah?_ "

He gives you a look that's all contempt. You don't blame him; you're the wild person who charged into his room with no warning and demanded combat. But if you don't get to fight him at least once after sensing his aura, you know you're going to snap—the same way he's going to snap if he has to continue rotting here, wasting his potential just because of the judgement of others. Jealousy is such a petty emotion that doesn't do anything good for anyone, least of all the people it's directed at.

"I know you're not stupid, Merlin." You spread your arms. Flex your aura a little bit so he can tell you're not going all out yet. "I want to fight you, because I would actually like a challenge for once this damn lifetime. And if I really wanted to, I could find a way to corner you into this so you didn't have a choice, but consent is important and all that. So you can fight me willingly, or you can put up with sitting around and sulking about how you hate how all your pure talent just pushes people away from you.

"Your call, Magami Rintarou-chan."

The childish honorific makes a vein pop in his forehead, and the next moment his invisible swords are very much visible. "I'd rather not wreck my room over this. Since you _invited yourself in_ , I'm sure you've already arranged a way better place to do this."

You haven't, but an idea springs to mind the moment he suggests it, about the same time you start the transportation magic. "My pleasure."

The desert at night is cold, but magic can fix those problems with hardly any energy depletion. You don't even need the light of the full moon to see each other, but it's a nice atmospheric addition. So many spells itch to launch off your fingers, and you can't pick just one to start with. Oh, wait, why even pick in the first place? That limit doesn't exist anymore.

_Fuck holding back._

Multiple incantations form around you, spill off your lips—spells coagulate and form, and Rintarou's own build in response. You launch your own spells, build counters to his, then launch them, too. It's such a smooth progression, like a perfectly tuned symphony or two capoeira masters intertwining with each other that boiling it down to words would be a disgrace, wouldn't do it justice. You can't help but wonder if what you're doing is fighting or dancing.

Of course, it doesn't really matter what you call it.

_It feels damn good._

You can't help but smile. Even if you haven't held back once in this lifetime, you still haven't found someone who could even come close to competing with you (back then, _he_ couldn't do it either, no matter how much he touted his own monstrous strength). Fighting one on one with a worthy opponent, one who can match you blow for blow without hesitation and still have the foresight and ability to pull off a barraging counterattack in return?

Why the hell did you ever think you should leave Magami Rintarou alone?

The grin that cracks your face is feral, the adrenaline coursing through your veins is addicting. In the few flashes of Rintarou's expression that you happen to see between the spells and blasted sand, he's the same, too. Starting with confusion, frustration, but, in the end, that's the look of someone exactly like you, just with a few more years of pent up frustration lingering inside him.

You can work with that.

You're so hyped up on energy that you only realize that time is passing because your brain's observant like that. Night gives way to blazing desert daytime, and then night overtakes that again. You've basically rearranged the topography of the wasteland around you, but it's not like anyone comes out to this place anyways. You could keep battling forever, and not even the Dame du Lac could stop you.

_Oh, yeah. They're a thing._

You don't really care about them—as _if_ Morgan le Fey could actually scare you—but they do remind you about all that canon nonsense. You're already derailing things a bit here by giving Rintarou a rival, but a little ruined canon never hurt anyone. And besides—

_Besides—_

_If I want this guy to keep giving me fun, I can't let him mope around all the time._

_(I can't let him be like me.)_

You don't cancel the spells you're launching off, but you don't form any new attacks, either. Instead, you teleport again, close enough to be right in Magami Rintarou's face. "You get it now, Merlin?"

You've surprised him enough that he doesn't immediately launch off an attack. "Get what?"

"Come on. I exist." You put a hand to your chest, smile in the moonlight. Your body starts to whine a bit at the loss of momentum, but you ignore it. "You're not some outlier in this world. I'm here. You can't possibly ever convince me to give up on anything just because you're too good."

Rintarou flinches, and all his pent up spellwork flickers out, leaving traces of energy through the air. That's to be expected when you hit the nail on the head. "What the hell do you even know?"

"Oh, please. You think I haven't heard it all before? 'You're a monster,' 'All this is your fault,' 'You ruin everything." More crystal clear memories from before try to slip into your immediate consciousness, but you push them away. Rintaro's jaw slacks before he catches himself. "That, and I'm a reincarnation, too. Different path than you, but I know plenty about what happened to you and what's going to happen to this timeline." You fold your hands behind your back, look up to the night sky. "So I decided that I'm going to be your friend, Merlin, because I'm someone that will never betray you. Besides, I doubt you could surpass me enough to even begin to make me feel jealous."

"You—" The next attack is so haphazard that you don't even bother to dodge or counter it. Rintarou's anger instead adds another dune to the desert.

"Let's look at it this way, shall we? Other people in your life gave up because they couldn't surpass you. How the fuck is that your problem?" You can start to see the wavering in his eyes, the hope for a world where he (you) doesn't have to be a monster. "If they want to give up on their dreams because someone is better than them, it's their loss. You know what I think?

"Fuck holding back!" Your voice echoes across the desert night. You spread your arms and dance across the air, until your feet touch down on the sand. "Fuck people who don't like you just because you don't want to hold back! Because you know what, Merlin? I think it's the perseverance of those who refuse to give into challenges that makes humanity so damn amazing!"

You spin back around, grinning up at Rintarou as he still hovers in midair. "So you know what would be fun? Let's you and I go help out a candidate in the King Arthur Succession Battle. We'll tear through any challenge that comes our way, and we'll shoot them to the top! And once that's done, we can go to the Other Side or whatever and kick the apocalypse's ass.

"Don't you get it? The two of us can do whatever the hell we want!"

You're so excited that you end up enhancing your jump into a leap, and then you're back on level with Rintarou. Feeling whimsical, you offer out your hands as a sign of solidarity. The past trauma makes him hesitate, but ultimately his palms are pressed against yours, fingers sending a shock of human warmth against your skin. "You swear to never betray me?"

"Should I make it a binding vow?" The spell sparks between your fingers, but you don't execute it. If he said the word, though, you would. It'd be worth it, really.

(You never want to see someone as broken as you were again.)

Rintarou shakes his head, though the moment of hesitation is obvious. "You don't need to go that far. Just know that if you ever do betray me, I'll spend the rest of this life and every one that comes after it making you regret it."

( _"Do that shit again and I'll break more than your nose."_ )

A giggle spills out of you, and you press a kiss to the back of Rintarou's hand, making a vow that doesn't use magic but makes his face flush red all the same. "I can work with that. Now let's get some food. I'm starving. What do you want, Merlin?

"We have the whole world just waiting for us."

^^^^  
lo0ol

Ramen. Even with a whole damn globe at his disposal, Rintarou picks ramen. You don't particularly blame him. After something wild happens, there tends to be an instinct, a longing for comfort. Reincarnated Merlin or no, Magami Rintarou is still a Japanese teenager. You don't complain. It's been way too long since your last trip to Japan in this life, and authentic ramen is where it's at.

"Ahhh~. So damn good." You put down your third bowl and sigh in satisfaction. Yes, there's magic to maintain a body without food, water, or rest, but it drains even your ridiculous stores of energy like nobody's business. Besides, eating, drinking, and sleeping are some of the most refreshing experiences you've ever had. No sense in giving them up so you look impressive. You've spent way too many lifetimes taking trips to the hospital already. "You sure have good taste, Merlin. Don't think I've ever had noodles this good, and that's not just the hunger talking."

"You should know better than to doubt me." You shrug, trying to figure out if you'd make yourself sick with bowl number four, or if it's time to try to sleep off this energy high you've been on. Rintarou slurps up a fresh bite of noodles, his smug expression fracturing in the process. "Do you intend to call me Merlin all the time?"

You grin. "Would you rather I stick to 'Rintarou-chan'?" He scowls. You flag down the chef and get another bowl of shio, the comforting atmosphere feeling like another home from some time ago. "Look, if it really bothers you, I won't do it. I know it sucks to be called by a name you hate. But I like to think of it as a symbol of our alliance. You know, to honor your first life and all."

"But Safir wasn't your name in your first life."

"No. But that name doesn't really fit the theme this round, you know?" Besides, it's easier when each round has a different name. Makes it easier to keep the memories straight, to remember who you loved when.

An odd sort of seriousness slips onto his expression. It's mostly in the eyes. "Then I should know, too. If we're making this a 'symbol of our alliance' and all."

(The first life, one of the shortest lives, in a world so different than this one that it feels like a dream. One where you gave a name and gained a love. One where you sacrificed yourself.

It's not an unfamiliar pattern to you at all. You've done _that_ at least ten times, if not more.

But it's still one of your most precious, the one that sticks with you the most, the bite of fangs, the ruby red eyes, the refusal to act on what you really wanted, the shout of a broken voice calling your name as you—)

"Ophelia."

Your voice is so quiet, you hardly even hear it. You haven't been called that name in what has to be centuries. Millenia? Pent up tears you didn't even know you were holding well up, and Rintarou looks uncomfortable as he turns back to his ramen, giving you space as you compose yourself. Take a deep breath. Touch your neck so you can feel your pulse. Wipe away your tears. Become able to speak without sobbing.

"If you…If you want to call me that you can." You don't know why you're saying it. Maybe it's to be fair. Could you even handle hearing that name again? "But why don't we save it? You know, for when it really matters." Rintarou raises an eyebrow at you. "You know, it'll be our little secret, and I'll do the same for you. Sound like a plan, Rintarou-chan?"

"How about you try dropping the '-chan'!"

A fresh round of laughter bursts out of you as the chef brings you your next bowl of ramen. You thank him and pick up your chopsticks again. "Oh, goodness, you want to be that close already? Who would have thought my kouhai would be so demanding as to drop honorifics after we've just met!"

You could really get used to watching him blush. It's excellent entertainment for your meal. "You seem so certain that you're older than me."

"Duh, this is what? Round two for you? Buddy, I've been through this so many times that I've lost count." Sure, with your perfect recollection at the moment, you could figure out the number, but what's it even matter? You have better things to spend your brainpower on, like appreciating this boss ass ramen broth. "Besides, if you can't put up with a little teasing from me, there's no way you're gonna be able to handle what you've got to put up with during the King Arthur Succession Battle."

"That's right. You mentioned we were going to help out a candidate." Rintarou polishes off the last of his broth and leans back in his seat a bit. "You know what's coming, don't you? If you've got clairvoyance magic, hand it over." He reaches out a hand, like he's demanding compensation.

You have no such thing, but you take his hand anyways, enjoying the contrast of your dark skin against his pale tone. "Sorry, that's not what I have. But I do have some good knowledge from before." You give him the quick rundown of how this world was a novel in a previous life and the rest of the basics. Thankfully, he takes it in stride. "So! Previously, you decided that the best way to cure your boredom would be to help out the weakest candidate as a challenge. And, well, she's a handful, but she's probably got plot armor or some bullshit, so there's no sense in challenging the protagonist, yeah? But don't you think it'd be loads of fun to go all out and wreck the competition? With me and you teaming up, whoever we chose to back up would win."

"Fair point. Hell, with me and you, maybe even the Dame du Lac…" His voice trails off into a mutter, and you use your free hand to enjoy your noodles before they get too soggy. "Well, let's focus on the Succession Battle for now. This candidate you've been talking about, the supposed weakest… What kind of King is she?"

Ah, yes, Luna Artur. "Well, she's absolute scum, really." Rintarou almost spits up the drink of water he was taking. "She does really ridiculous things with absolutely no consideration for how it's going to make her look. She's the type of dumbass that'll exploit her knight and sell her Excalibur. But you know what?" You point your chopsticks at Rintarou, not giving a damn if it's rude or not. "When it comes down it, she understands what it means to be a King, way more than anyone. Hell, she even made cynical old you to crack.

"If I have to back someone in this battle, it's definitely going to be her."

You both engage in a stare off, but the extension of noodles hanging from your mouth kind of breaks the tension. With a slurp, you've reset your expression, though you think some broth has flecked on your face. Whatever. If that's enough for Rintarou to discredit you, there's no way he's going to be able to last an hour in Luna Artur's presence.

"You absolutely trust her?" he asks, after an extended silence.

"Well, I trust your judgement, even if it's a different version of you. So, the question is, do you trust yourself?"

"Well, when you put it like that…" Rintarou adjusts his fingers, drawing your hand to his lips to leave a kiss across your knuckles before flashing a devil's grin. _Oh, you're going to play that way, now are you?_ "Safir. Let's make a plan to crash the King Arthur Succession Battle."

You leave your chopsticks in your empty bowl and hold your free hand to your chest. "Oh, Rintarou-chan. I thought you'd never ask."

^^^^  
lo0ol

A few days pass of sleeping for hours and convincing the people in the rest of your respective lives that you haven't vanished off the face of the earth, and then it's time to plan. As far as you see it, you have two options for how to handle this: Run things as close to canon as possible, just with you involved, or Say fuck all that and chart a new course.

"What the fuck's the point of playing out a scenario where you already know what's going to happen?" Rintarou asks. He's sitting across from you at a café in Italy, a hand propped on his cheek. You had a craving for gelato, so why not go to the source?

You pop your spoon out of your mouth and wield it as a baton. "An excellent point. So, when do you want to do this, and how big of a disturbance do you want to make? Oh, also, also, try this."

When you offer out a freshly gelato-filled spoon, Rintarou dutifully opens his mouth. After taking a few moments to enjoy the flavor, he nods. "Hm, not bad. And, again, I ask, what the fuck's the point if we don't just change things up as much as possible? Fuck holding back, right?"

"And fuck people who don't like us just because we won't hold back." It's nice that he's finally getting it. With a satisfied sigh, you finish off your gelato and set your trash aside. "Alright, so we can probably throw things off the most by launching into things early. The question is how early do we want to go?"

Rintarou stands up and stretches a bit, that heretical grin starting to stretch across his face. "Why not now? You can't tell me you haven't already tracked her down like you did with me."

He's got you there. It was one of the first things you did after forming your alliance. You stand as well, doing mental math in your head. "It's super early morning there right now, you know."

"You say as if that stopped you when you came and attacked me." You shrug and offer him your arm. It's not strictly necessary for the teleportation spell you're weaving, and he knows it, but for some reason, physical boundaries really don't matter. You walk in step out of the café, fresh air and clusters of Italian discussions washing over you. "You take care of getting us there and I'll even escort you home."

"How romantic of you." You keep a straight face for as long as it takes for both of you to snort—and then you switch to game mode. Both of you put on your best magical aura presentation, and you teleport in the next second before anyone in the crowd can even notice something's off. You touch down in a very messy room with one very dazed blonde in her pajamas before you. "Luna Artur, one of the eleven chosen candidates for the King Arthur Succession Battle—"

" _Have we got a deal for you._ "


	2. The OP Sorcerer's Guide to Accidentally Adopting Succession Battle Candidates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: This episode contains references to child abuse. Please stay safe while you read.

**The OP Sorcerer’s Guide to Accidentally Adopting Succession Battle Candidates**

_Hedonist Safir & Heretic Merlin_ #2

By: Aviantei

^^^^  
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“Luna Artur, one of the eleven chosen candidates for the King Arthur Succession Battle—”

“ _Have we got a deal for you._ ”

You think it’s a pretty good dramatic opening line if you must say so yourself. You and Rintarou have even pulled off that Speak in Tandem thing. Kind of impressive, considering that you didn’t even rehearse or, well, _plan_ any of this. Or, rather, it would be impressive if you and Rintarou weren’t just so fucking good at everything.

Luna Artur seems impressed, though, or maybe she’s just stunned. It’s still early morning in Avalonia, and it looks like your entrance woke her up. You try to imagine things from her perspective:, being nice and asleep and then— _bam_ , two sorcerers popping up in your room talking about the King Arthur Succession Battle. And then you stop trying to bother thinking from her perspective, because Luna Artur is the type to toss any expectation placed on her out the window, just like any good energetic and stubborn protagonist.

“A deal?” she sleepily echoes, and you catch Rintarou’s dark eyes flicking towards you, like he’s trying to confirm what’s happening, make sure this is the right girl. Oh, boy, is he in for it the next couple of years. Luna rubs the sleep out of her eyes. “Who are you two, anyways?”

Rintarou raises a hand to his chest in a moderately extra gesture. “Magami Rintarou.”

“And you can call me Safir,” you add, but Luna’s only half listening, staring down Rintarou. Yeah, that’s right—they met when they were kids, but Rintarou just straight up didn’t remember. Part of you wonders how he forgot in the first place when Luna is an absolute whirlwind, but it was probably some sort of defense mechanism, the memory buried under every awful thing that the people that came after said to him.

You tuck away that anger for later and continue speaking: “We’re here to become your vassals for the King Arthur Succession Battle.” Luna’s eyes light up at the mention—as far as she’s concerned, Rintarou’s fulfilling his promise from when they were kids. They can sort that out later. “Rintarou-chan and I here are powerful sorcerers. With us on your side, you’re guaranteed to win.”

“Super cool,” Luna breathes, stunned for all but a moment. “Oh, if you’re gonna be my vassals, we have to do the thing! Ah, I’m super not prepared for this—” She launches herself off the bed and towards the closest, spastically muttering all the way. Soon she’s dug out a shoe and is stuffing it on her foot, despite being in nothing else than a tank top and shorts. With zero shame, she plops back down on her bed and crosses her legs, the now converse-covered foot prominently pushed forward. “A ceremony to bind master and servant! Go on. Lick it.”

The look on Rintarou’s face is absolutely priceless, and a splutter of laughter bursts out of your lips. Rintarou looks to you, even more scandalized than before. “Safir,” he says, the rest of his words in a perfectly executed Old English that leaves Luna confused, “are you messing with me right now?”

“No,” you say in kind, unable to keep a straight face even though you’re completely serious, “that’s her.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” he howls in English, and that sets off what will be the first of many bickering arguments between Magami Rintarou and Luna Artur—the modern day’s Merlin and King Arthur.

You smile, snicker, magic yourself up some popcorn, and sit back to watch.

^^^^  
lo0ol

“She’s exactly like King Airhead was back then. I hate it…”

Rintarou’s moaning and groaning while sprawled out on the table of the restaurant you’re in. He demanded sushi as payment for his suffering, and you complied. It’s not like you can’t afford it, anyways, though Rintarou seems bent on ordering as much expensive fish as he can muster in some form of retaliation, as if you don’t have more money than you could ever reasonably know what to do with—and that’s _after_ paying for your parent’s retirement, setting up funds for your children if you ever decide to have them this round, and donating to several causes that you think are worth the cash.

“I think that’s part of why the other you stuck with her,” you say, working on snapping your chopsticks apart. The break is perfectly clean and even, hardly a splinter out of place. “I mean, then, I guess you only had some vague memories to work off of, but Luna’s enough like Arthur was that you were just drawn to that.” Rintarou groans one more time, but you can see the smile starting to form on his lips. Arthur and Luna after him may be unreliable hellions at first glance, but Rintarou— _Merlin_ cares about them just the same. You tap your fingers across your thigh in a patternless cadence. “We gotta figure out a better way to talk about this, otherwise things are just going to get confusing. Any objections to calling that timeline ‘canon’?” It’s much easier than coming up with something new to call it anyways.

“Yeah, fine by me.” The first round of your sushi arrives, and Rintarou sits up straight to make room on the table. That’s a lot of fish in front of you. Maybe you should’ve brought Luna along for the ride, but then Rintarou would just bitch more, and he needs a little bit of time to decompress before heading back into the fray. Ah, well, best not let things go to waste. Rintarou pours out soy sauce for the both of you before tucking in with an _itadakimasu_. “I’m impressed that canon me didn’t just give up on her right away. I know you mentioned that I was in it for fun, but she’s still a lot. At least now I have reassurance that it’ll work out, but…”

You smile. The fact that he can get irritated like this is a good sign that he’s already moving forward, getting away from that cynical and isolated place he could have ended up trapped in. Oh, and the sushi is _delicious_ , well worth whatever market price happens to be nowadays.

“Just stepping in like this is going to change things around a lot, though,” you say, which is fine. Rintarou wants a King Arthur Succession Battle different from the canon one, Rintarou gets a King Arthur Succession Battle different from the canon one. It’s as simple as that. “I mean, I think there’s still at least a few years before you would have met Luna—” _again,_ you think “—in canon, so we’re already ahead of schedule. Plus there’s also differences with you.”

Rintarou frowns a bit while he chews, all too easily able to imagine what the next couple of years could have been like. “You mean besides being bored out of my mind and hating everyone else in the world?”

You nod, only halfway able to appreciate the quality of the sashimi you’re munching through. “I’m mostly thinking about your Merlin memories. You had dreams and stuff before. But only so much of it clicked.” You don’t bother framing it as a question. Unless this timeline was already fundamentally different from the start, you already know how this goes for him.

“Yeah. And it wasn’t until you called me Merlin that things started falling into place, and I didn’t really _realize_ it until afterwards. Like my body and mind needed time to be on the same page.”

“Exactly. Not to mention the more that we fought before, the more techniques you were able to remember and the more damage you could do.” You point your thumb at yourself. “ _I_ remembered everything right out the gate this round. You need to have an exposure to things to build up more of your skill—to get your full power as Merlin back.” The idea makes you grin. “Mm, I want a rematch when you get to that point again, you hear me? Of course, I’ll gladly be your sparring partner until then, but…”

You know well enough that there’s a world of difference between battles where you can unequivocally crush your opponents and ones where they can put up a fight, and that impatient, battle high part of your soul can’t wait to see the results.

Rintarou puts his first empty sushi plate aside and pulls another one closer. His dexterity makes using chopsticks look like a work of art. “Without you around, I wouldn’t have had much opportunity to build up my skills before the Succession Battle, is that what you’re saying?” he asks. Oh, right, that _was_ the point you were trying to make before you got distracted. Then again, Rintarou looks as every bit excited by the concept as you are. “Ah, man, this should be fun then. Even if it means we can just crush all the other candidates, it’s not like that will be the end of the road.”

Because there are things waiting beyond that point. On the other side of the Curtain of Consciousness, monsters that can threaten to destroy the world.

Because the Dame du Lac still exist, and you know that anger that Merlin has pent up inside him is only going to grow as time goes on.

“That all said, we still have some time before the Succession Battle starts. We have plenty of time to build your power, train up Luna a bit more, set up a base of operations, and in general prepare. We should make the most of that time, yeah?”

Which both of you decide to interpret as getting through your meals as quickly as possible so you can have another sparring match, rearranging the same patch of desert as before as the second steo in the process.

^^^^  
lo0ol

Luna has taken the self-appointment of both you and Rintarou as her new vassals in stride. Rintarou was already in the running thanks to his childhood friend status—which he still hasn’t seemed to remember yet, and you’ve decided to see whether it’ll come back to him or Luna will snap in frustration first—and Rintarou’s word is more than enough for Luna to accept you, too. You’re pretty sure your display of sheer magical potential helps, too.

Oh, and the literal manor that you’ve acquired as Team Luna’s new base. You’re pretty sure that also works in your favor.

You don’t want to give too much credit to the Dame du Lac—to be more accurate, you don’t want to give too much credit to Morgan le Fey, but _details_ —but they did something impressive with manipulating the world into building New Avalon right on the perfect intersection of lay lines. Hell, it’s been here long enough that it has a whole community established on it, and some families have already had a few generations that have lived here.

Which means that the good news is that you were able to secure Logres Manor as your base without having to build it from the ground up.

“Whoa! This is like my dream mansion! How’d you know, Safir?”

Luna’s staring up at the thing, starry eyed and nearly sparkling from her excitement. Rintarou is looking over the place with a much more critical eye, and you can feel his magic probing the area, assessing its layout and position and the truck load of protective spells and wards you’ve already dumped over the place. No one’s getting into your base of operations without your express permission, and he ultimately nods his approval.

“Not bad,” he says, and Luna’s already sprinted to the doors, cheering in excitement as your spellwork opens the path for her. Preventing her from doing problematic things—like completely emptying out her and Rintarou’s pocketbooks for the place—is simple whenever you know what to circumvent. Camelot International’s even already received a regular stream of funding from your many bank accounts to prevent Luna from needing to sell off her Excalibur later down the line. “The rent on this place won’t be cheap, but its position and vantage are well worth whatever the cost may be. Let me know how much you want me to chip in—I’ll make sure King Airhead over there contributes, too.”

Rintarou jerks his thumb over to Luna, who’s come back to test out the automatic great wooden doors again. Just before they close again, you head inside as well, Rintarou at your heels. You make it inside the entrance hall just in time to see Luna bolt up the stairs, claiming dibs on the master bedroom in a voice that echoes off the pristine and near shining walls.

“Don’t worry about rent,” you say, Luna’s enthusiasm pulling a smile onto your lips. “I bought the place. It’s ours now.”

“You _what_?” Or, at least, you’re pretty sure that’s what he said. The words were far more of a strangled choke. “This place could _not_ be cheap. If you’re going to do that, then King Airhead and I should at least chip in on the lease—”

“Rintarou.” He stills at his name, at the lack of honorific, at the one-hundred-and-ten percent serious look you give him. “I _bought_ it. There’s not a lease.” His mouth flaps open and shut a few times. You consider telling him that his look of shock is absolutely adorable, but there will be plenty of opportunities for that later. “I’ve done this whole ‘financial responsibility’ thing before, and I’ve had my memories since I was _born._ I used some prize money from when I was a brat as a seed, and then I added onto it. I have _patents_ in my name, Rintarou-chan. I have way more money than I know what to do with. This is nothing.” You could buy ten manors, just as luxurious as this one, and still have money to spare.

That, and you may have used some spellwork to give the previous owners some unfortunate dreams that made them think they’d achieve their untimely demise so long as they stayed—which, according to the novel canon, is true. Don’t let anyone say you think doing such things to cut a deal that works out in your favor is beneath you.

Rintarou processes the information for a bit longer, but then he nods. “You’re ridiculous,” he says, but his tone makes it clear it’s a compliment. “Just don’t let King Airhead know you have that much cash. If she’s as much like Arthur as she seems, she’ll try to swindle you out of every last cent you have.”

“Ah, but I’ve already considered that, you see.” You dig into your pockets and fish out a couple of debit cards. You pass one to Rintarou, whose eyes narrow as he reads his own name on the user line. “I made you and our king some accounts. You’ll get regular funds, yeah? Try not to spend it all in one place.”

“You don’t—”

“I don’t,” you agree, and Rintarou almost _pouts_ as he looks at the debit card. Another cute expression on him. “But I can, and I want to, so that’s what I’ll do. ‘Fuck holding back’ applies to situations like this, too, you know, Rintarou-chan. Just think of it like an allowance if you have to. Hell, I don’t care if you toss the money into whatever. But at least take it.”

Because Luna and Rintarou aren’t going to get money from anywhere else. Luna’s already had whatever argument with her father that put her out of the Artur family’s good graces—and, boy, they’ll probably try crawling back once she becomes the new King Arthur, but it sucks to suck—which made it easy to move her to Avalonia without much complaint. Rintarou’s parents have already lost their right to _be_ his parents as far as you’re concerned, so they get no fucking say in the matter. And considering that _your_ parents are living off your money, it’s not like they can complain where you choose to spend the rest.

Luna’s your king now, and Rintarou’s your partner in crime—they’re your people.

(You take care of your people.)

Rintarou tucks the card into his wallet and relents, his pout morphing into a smirk that suits him well. “What’s the gender neutral term for sugar daddy?” You whack his shoulder but snicker. Luna can get her fancy new card when she’s finished freaking out over the entirety of the manor, so back into your pocket it goes. “Still, this place is pretty big. What are we even going to do with all this space?”

“A king and two vassals does not a kingdom make,” you say, and Rintarou seems to accept that much. No matter the battle, more allies is generally a good idea—even if the two of you are more than enough to handle everything on your own, even with making up for Luna’s more spastic tendencies. “Maybe for the next few years, it’ll be a lot of space, but we’ll make good use of it in the end.”

Sir Kay will need a room, at the very least. Plus you see no reason why your little timeline tweaks so far will stop Felicia Ferald and Sir Gawain from forging an alliance with Luna, not to mention Emma will also need a place to stay—

You freeze in place, hardly even registering the way Rintarou’s looking at you as the magical memories start slipping in. Emma— _Emma Michelle, that was her name._ One of the other Succession Battle candidates, a girl that had gone through torture in preparation for her role to become a saint. Just innocence manipulated for the sake of someone else’s benefit, a whole organization dedicated to creating a weapon in a child’s body.

(Fight after fight after fight of near death, of spilling your own brother’s blood, of your own blood spilling out of your flesh, of a burning desire for revenge that consumed you for a near decade, the insistence that you were worth nothing more than your anger and hate, that you were nothing more than a weapon given human form, a harbinger of destruction.

Another girl, one younger than you, with a slight build, silver hair, and ruby eyes. A force of mass destruction by the time she turned ten, one that wholeheartedly believed she was acting for the sake of justice and the word of God but was only perpetuating the sort of crimes she acted against, all because that was how she’d been raised.

You may have been on different sides in that war, but you both were capable of slaughter, and neither of you batted an eye until it was far too late.)

“Rintarou-chan,” you say, your voice weak, your body almost forgetting how to act in the present. It comes back to you in time, though. “Rintarou-chan, have you gone and traveled the world yet?” Because it was Rintarou that helped Emma before, Rintarou that gave her a point of hope, even if he pulled it away in the end, and it would at least be something to work with.

“Huh? No, I haven’t. I mean, I was thinking about it before you showed up, because what the hell else can school even teach me, right, but—”

You’ve executed the teleportation spell before he even finishes the sentence.

^^^^  
lo0ol

France is a beautiful country, and the sunrise is doing it plenty of favors. Normally, you would savor the moment. Enjoy the view, suck in the fresh air. The Religious Order of Saint Joan has a pretty little setup for themselves, all old-style churches and accompanying buildings, every single one with pristine white stonework. Stained glass twinkles from windows, the grounds are well maintained, with the plant life in verdant greens, in the blossoming of flowers. These are the sorts of things you usually enjoy.

Right now, though, you’re here to save a child, and you don’t give a _fuck_ about the Religious Order of Saint Joan’s impeccable landscaping capability. It’s just a pretty cover for the darkness underneath.

You build up your aura and stoke your mana furnace, letting the resulting wash of energy _erupt_ over the Saint Joan’s commune before you. Unlike your challenge to Rintarou, you don’t control it, instead letting your pure rage and killing intent sweep over everything. Places like this tend to have early waking hours, but anyone that _was_ asleep is sure to have woken up in a terror over what you’ve just unleashed. _Good,_ you think, just seconds before, _Terror isn’t enough for bastards like this._

Still, you don’t want to destroy _everyone_ here. There’s one exception in the midst, and she’s easy enough to find. While the other members of Saint Joan’s are scared from your presence, only one energy has that distinct tang of sadness and painpain _pain_ to it. You’ve flashed to the side of that presence in a second.

It takes the same amount of time for the image before you to burn itself into your memory. A girl, with long hair that’s too dirty to see the platinum blonde color underneath. A dead and defeated look in those aquamarine eyes, with bags like smudges under them. A form so slight—not just because of her natural body type, but because of malnutrition. Chains holding her in the air, the end points connected to the corners of an iron cage. Scattered religious texts on the floor. Because you built a spell to automatically adjust your vision when in extreme conditions, you almost don’t realize that the room is pitch black, but it is, and this child, not even yet thirteen, is alone and suspended in it.

Emma Michelle lets out a wheezing breath that could be mistaken for someone on the verge of death, and it carries every single nuance of the tears she’s too dehydrated to produce.

Your spellwork is as quick and efficient as ever, but it doesn’t feel like enough. You free her from her bindings, you disintegrate the torture devices down to the molecular level, you clean the grime from her body, you give her fresh clothes, you put her into a magical and restorative sleep to make up for the abuse to her body as you hold her close in pure parental instinct, though there’s no magic out there that can cure the mind just as easily, but that can be fixed in time, that’s something you can get started on after you get her away from these _absolutely awful, disgusting, fucking—_

The one saving grace to Emma being left alone in the dark is that she won’t be able to see whatever you decide to unleash on her captors.

So many spells spring to mind, spring to your fingertips. Just straight up killing them all seems too kind. If they’re going to die, they should at _least_ suffer the same amount they made Emma did, maybe even more. She’s not like Jeanne was, canon her wasn’t kind enough to extend forgiveness to her abusers, but you also want to give her the choice, let their holy saint decide just what torment they’ll go through before you eject them from their living bodies.

( _All life is precious,_ a voice that used to be yours whispers deep inside your soul.)

Not lives that _fucking torture children_ under the pretense that it’s for the good of the world. But the thought doesn’t go away, so you forge spell that’s a compromise, one that will put the entire Religious Order of Saint Joan through hell, deferring their final verdict for the time being.

Taking care of Emma is much more important.

^^^^  
lo0ol

Consecutive large-scale magic like that even bothers your bullshit body enough to put you on the verge of winded, but you don’t rest once you teleport yourself and Emma back to Logres Manor, into one of the already furnished rooms. Your wards around the building ripple with the force of your return, and you pull your murderous aura back in, compacting the rage into a refined ball that you can unpack later. You redirect your energy towards resting Emma into the already dressed bed and make longer term spells, serving more like a hospital room than the slapdash triage you conducted in the Saint Joan dungeons, something that will keep Emma in good shape until she wakes up again.

You’re putting the final tweaks on the spellwork that will alert you if something goes wrong when Rintarou slams open the door.

You flick your eyes over to him, your hands twisting together your mana on autopilot. He’s—not looking as self-assured as ever. His face is twisted up into—something? _Oh,_ you realize as he marches closer to you and snap the final pieces of your diagnostic magic together, _that’s anger._

Rintarou fists the front of your shirt, though his eyes take note of Emma, and he has just enough sense of mind _not_ to shout and disturb her sleep. “Where,” he says, managing to convey an impressive amount of anger in his tone without raising his voice, “did you go? Safir, where did you go that you came back feeling like _that_?”

You suppose your arrival wasn’t in the best state. Hell, your mana furnace is still burning, and you mutter the incantation to turn down the settings, whatever residual aura you were still blasting off shifting back to its usual state. “I had to take care of something,” you say, because it’s the truth. Emma sleeps beside you, blissfully dreamless thanks to your magic. “I remembered something from canon, and I couldn’t just let it keep going any longer than necessary, so I left.”

You’re not directly answering his question, and Rintarou knows it. You don’t know why you’re being difficult. You’re just—still so angry, and being combative is the only outlet you have for the moment. “You could have taken me. You don’t just need to go off and fight everything on your own.”

“And what? Leave our king here without anyone to watch out for her?”

Rintarou barks out a laugh. “Yes, because you would have built a magical defense that would let anyone that could cause a problem in. Funny how you trust me with looking after Luna, but you don’t think I can keep up with you.” You grimace, because that’s not it at all. “If you want me to trust that you won’t betray me, you need to trust me to know what’s going on—not just disappear without a trace.”

It takes another beat for you to realize that Rintarou was _worried_ about you. Sure, he’s saying this is about your promise to him, but that’s not all there is to it.

You think about it: If Rintarou vanished out of nowhere and came back with his mana feeling like he’d just been through a war zone, what would you do?

The twisting feeling in your gut is _awful_. No matter how much of a miracle your body and brain are, reincarnation never seems to make you stop having feelings.

“Sorry.” The word feels wooden in your mouth. “I just—I remembered, and I couldn’t—” All sorts of emotions are clamoring for your attention, and you don’t want to give any of them a single bit of your priority. Your voice comes out as a whisper. “They were _torturing_ her, and I could do something about it, so I did, and I—”

“I get it.” Rintarou’s voice is just as low as yours. “You just— _disappeared_ , and I couldn’t even get a grip on where you might have gone, and—” He lets out a growl. “I’m not used to not knowing what’s going on, Safir.”

“I know.” It’s the burden of always being in control, of being good at everything. The moment shit doesn’t match up to expectations, everything feels _off_. And while it can feel interesting in some moments, that novelty can wear off real quick. You adjust your hijab back into place as Rintarou lets go of your shirt. “We can try to work out, I dunno, some sort of signal for if I need to take care of emergency canon nonsense in the future.” You don’t _think_ you’ll run into anything like this again, but who the hell knows anymore. “That way, we can—”

“Heyyy, you two okay in here?” Luna’s peeking around the corner of the doorway in the picture-perfect image of someone trying to spy and failing to be stealthy. You snap your jaw shut; letting Rintarou know about the whole canon nonsense is one thing, but Luna is a whole other animal, and you already decided to leave her and everyone else out of it. “Rintarou was super worried that you just up and disappeared, Safir, and of course I care as your king! So what just—oh, snap, who’s the girl?!”

Predictably, Luna has no concern for keeping her volume under control when someone’s sleeping. You run a hand down your face and sigh. “I don’t want to wake her up, please. Let’s talk about this downstairs. I think there was a tearoom…”

^^^^  
lo0ol

Rintarou steps up to making tea as you settle into your quaint little parlor. Honestly, part of your brain is still in France, and you can’t really appreciate much else about your surroundings. Luna and Rintarou both listen as you tell them about Emma, about a little girl forced to be a savior for people too pathetic to do anything than force their responsibility onto someone else.

“That’s awful,” Luna says, oddly sober for once. Even Rintarou looks disgusted, much more upset than when he came to demand answers from you. “People who do things like that are the worst. You did good going and picking up Emma, Safir. That’s the kind of work I expect from my vassal.”

The compliment actually makes you smile, and you sip at the tea. You brought some of your preferred stock with you when you moved in, and Rintarou is naturally good at getting an excellent flavor out of the brew. “Well,” Rintarou says, “since you bought the place, I guess we can’t complain too much about who you decide to let stay in it.” He’s trying to play it as casual as always, and you can’t help but wonder if that’s to ground himself, ground _you_ , or if you’re just reading too much into it altogether.

“Emma Michelle, though. Why do I feel like I’ve heard that name before…?” Luna’s nose scrunches up as she thinks, and Rintarou goes to take a drink of his tea just as she says, “Oh, yeah, the Michelle family is another one of the houses that descended from King Arthur!”

Rintarou doesn’t spit take, but he makes a sour expression that looks like his tea almost went down the wrong pipe. “Safir… You brought another Succession Battle candidate here?”

“Considering the alternative, I didn’t see much other choice in the matter.” You take another sip from your tea as you watch Rintarou’s grimace, a sign that he doesn’t like the situation, but he can’t deny that you had a valid reason. “Emma needs a safe place to grow up that isn’t going to just turn her into another symbol for people to shove their expectations on.” You’ve been there, done that, and you’re not wishing that on a kid that’s so manipulated she probably doesn’t even realize it wasn’t her own decision. “I’m not going to jump ship to another king or anything. I just don’t trust anyone else to take care of her and actually give her what she needs.”

“I don’t see the big deal,” Luna says, and a breath of relief scatters the steam from the top of your teacup. “The Succession Battle isn’t happening just yet, and we definitely can’t let Emma stay with a bunch of sickos that are just gonna torment her.” Luna’s smile is like the first beam of sunlight that breaks through a stormy sky of clouds. “Safir, I’m sure you’ll take care of her, yeah? You have my blessing as your king.”

And that’s that, really. Luna’s scum, sure, but even she doesn’t let injustice just walk by without at least tripping it on the way past. Besides, King Arthur was like this, too, wasn’t he? Letting people who’d formerly been his enemies under his charge.

The Succession Battle can wait. Protecting a child is far more important.

Rintarou lets out a world-weary sigh, but he also doesn’t argue anymore. “Fine. I’ll leave it be until the Succession Battle starts. I’ll trust you, Safir.”

“Great,” you say, draining the last of your tea, setting down the cup, and standing. “Then I’m going to go sleep for at least the next twelve hours.”

^^^^  
lo0ol

In some ways, it’s weird that you can rest so easy, but your body wants some recovery time, plus you set enough spellwork on monitoring Emma that if she wakes up, _you’ll_ wake up, simple as that. Besides, it’s not like the magical equivalent of melatonin is all that hard to produce if you’re getting desperate.

It was afternoon when you went down, and it’s some hour in the middle of the night when you wake back up. You roll around a bit longer, stretch when you finally stand up, and amble your way to the room next door, where Emma’s resting. There’s a lamp on, and Rintarou’s tucked into a corner, reading one of the books from the manor’s delightfully pre-stocked library. He looks up when you open the door, and you raise an eyebrow up in a silent question.

“King Airhead and I figured that it’d probably be better if she didn’t wake up alone.” You raise your other eyebrow to match the first in a follow up question. “No, I haven’t been up all night. Luna and I traded off a few hours ago. Stop fussing.”

“Alright, Rintarou-chan.” You spend a few moments doublechecking that Emma’s doing okay. There’s nothing concerning about her condition—aside from, you know, the fact that she was in such a fucking awful condition in the first place—and her sleeping face is peaceful. You catch Rintarou concentrating, trying to get a feel on your spellwork as you look it over. “I’d teach you how to use it if you just ask,” you say, though you can tell that’s not really what’s on his mind. Hell, it’s not even all that’s on your mind, and you’ve been conscious for a total of like ten minutes. You sigh. “I set things up so I’ll know if something’s wrong. Let’s go get some fresh air.”

Rintarou follows you out into the garden, and you suck in the mingling scents of plant life to try and relax. It only works so much, and all the nasty little feelings inside you are stirring again now that you’re awake. After wandering aimlessly through the garden paths, you plop down onto a stone bench and stare up at the stars, surprisingly crystal clear. Rintarou also sits down, and you both wait things out for several moments.

“Did I know?” Rintarou asks. “I mean, canon me. Did I know about Emma?”

You glance at him sideways. “What makes you think that canon you did?”

“Because you asked before you left. Which means that, if I had left to travel the world, I would have met her.” He’s right. You should be more careful with things like that. “And if I’d already done it, that would have meant I just left her there.”

You realize the path his thoughts are taking, the traces of guilt already starting to worm their way into his mind, for something that an alternate version of himself did. “You did know her, but you didn’t _know._ ” Rintarou gives you a disbelieving look, but you press on. “Canon you met canon Emma when she was going about what you could call the normal parts of her life. You knew they were training her, but all you noticed was that they were teaching her a style that didn’t match her at all, so you taught her swordplay. Emma…Emma was so brainwashed that she didn’t even realize she needed help, so she wouldn’t have asked for it. The only people to blame are the ones that did this to her, and I already took care of them.”

“You killed them, I hope.”

“No.” Rintarou stands up, a fresh layer of rage slammed down over his face, and you grab his arm and pull him back down to the bench. Storming off won’t do him any good. “Emma should get to decide if she wants them to die or not. She was the one wronged by this.” Rintarou huffs but doesn’t try to shake you off, though you can feel the antagonistic buzz to his mana under your fingertips, reverberating all the way to your chest. “Have a little faith in me, dammit. There’s no way I’d let those fuckers get off scott free.”

“So, then?”

You pause a moment, think of the spellwork still cloaked over the Religious Order of Saint Joan’s settlement. “So I made it so that every one of them is in a Netherworld where they’re reliving the level of torment they put onto Emma. And if they ever break out and try to do something like that again, they’ll regret it before they can even hurt anyone else.” Because it’s so much easier for people to do things like that again when they’ve already justified it once.

They’re going to have at _least_ every bit as much trauma as Emma has by the time you’re done with them.

“Good.” Rintarou looks mollified for the moment, so you let him go. “Still, how could I have not fucking seen it? Things like that leave marks, dammit. Did I really not care enough to even _notice_ that something was off?”

“I don’t know. There’s only so much that canon talked about that time, just that it happened. And, I mean, I know it doesn’t fix shit, but you and Luna helped her out. She got to be free in the end. This time, I just…sped up the process.” Because leaving it be for the next two and a half years was absolutely not an option. “If either of us is going to take the blame for what happened this round, it should be me. I didn’t remember soon enough, so she had to suffer longer than necessary. I could have figured it out if I thought a little harder.”

Rintarou has that little crease between his brows that mostly forms when Luna’s doing something stupid. Should you be honored or offended that he’s leveling that look at you? “Don’t tell me you’re going to blame yourself after all that shit you just told me.”

“No, but if you’re going to get all antsy about it, then you have way less of a reason to worry than I do.” You lean back, your palms pressing against the cool marble that you’re sitting on. “We can’t control when we know things. So sometimes good people get hurt in the meantime. But it’s our actions when we do know that count.”

“So what about when we do know?” Rintarou’s voice jumps up in volume, snaps into the otherwise quiet air. “What if we know things are going to go wrong, but we don’t do anything about it? What if we make a mistake that ruins everything, and there’s no way to fix it?!”

It occurs to you, maybe a bit too late, that this conversation isn’t about Emma at all.

Rintarou sucks in a breath, but it doesn’t do anything to calm him down. “I screwed up. Back then, with King Airhead. I knew it was all a bad idea, but I let it happen because he said not to worry about it. But if I had just fought harder, if I hadn’t been _stupid_ enough to get trapped by the Dame du Lac, I would have _stopped_ it.” His voice drops back down to a whisper. “I know I’m not a hero. Canon me wouldn’t have been, either. But if I missed something so obvious like that before, what if I do it again? What if I make a mistake and I lose this king, too?”

Vulnerability is not something that comes easy to people like you, people who are used to handling everything on their own merit. The idea of your iron-clad competency failing on you, leading to the downfall of everything you care about—it seems so impossible until it happens, and then it’s terrifying. Rintarou has already lived through that once, and, if it’s happened before, it can happen again.

“Rintarou—no, _Merlin_.” You keep your voice gentle, but Rintarou snaps to attention like the words are the crack of a whip. You stay comforting, stay soothing. “I can’t read the future, and only so much of what I know of canon will be helpful. But you don’t have to worry, okay? Because this round is different from the last one—” You pull him into a hug, and he flinches before he relaxes into the touch. “—this time, you’ve got me.

“You don’t have to take on everything alone.”

You hope that the words mean something to him, that they’ll actually help him feel better. You know that you’ve needed to hear words like that before. And maybe you’re pushing it, but it’s what you have to give.

Rintarou shifts, and you’re about to let go and give him back his personal space before his arms snag around your waist, which you honestly didn’t expect. “You, too, Safir,” he says, and you don’t dare move, even if seeing his face would make knowing how to react ten-thousand times easier. “You don’t have to fix all our problems on your own, either.”

Which is fair, since you basically rushed forward into taking care of Emma on your own, like you were the only one who could solve that problem.

( _“Did you honestly think so little of me? That I wouldn’t have helped you carry that burden?”_ )

“It was something before, wasn’t it?” Rintarou asks before you can come up with a response. “What Emma went through…you did, too?” You nod against his shoulder. This is the problem with your crystal-clear recollection: the memories feel brand new, they feel like you’ve just lived through them, feelings and all, and it makes it _so_ hard to remember who you are in the present. It’s impressive that you _didn’t_ just kill them all, really.

You would have, back then, if you’d been given the chance, if it would have done any good.

“Fair warning that I’m an absolute mess, and I have this problem a lot,” you say, only half able to get the tone right to joke about it. “If you want to back out of our alliance now, this is the time to do it.”

Rintarou shifts, moving so that you’re at arm length, and his hands move up to your shoulders. He stares at you for several moments, his violet eyes boring into you before he tightens his hold and smacks his forehead into yours in an unrepentant headbutt. It’s not enough to _actually_ cause any damage, but you slap your hands to the impacted area anyways. “What the _fuck_ , Rintarou-chan? I’m going to cut back on your allowance!”

“Don’t you ‘what the fuck’ me! You’re stuck with me, dammit!” You glare at him, but there’s a happy little feeling fluttering around your chest, relief that he doesn’t think you’re too much of a mess to just get rid of. “Now tell me what happened, or I’ll get King Airhead to bother you about the details, and you _know_ she’s not going to let up.”

Absolutely fucking _rude_.

But he’s right. You’re not alone this round, either.

^^^^  
lo0ol

“Does it ever get easier?” he asks, after you’ve explained what happened to you, in a lifetime so long ago.

You shrug, and it already feels like there’s less weight stacked on your shoulders. “It depends. On if you had enough time to process it before. On what the memories feel like when they come back.” On if you force yourself to bury it all. You keep that thought to yourself, give Rintarou a smile. “But I think that you and I are going to be just fine.”

^^^^  
lo0ol

Emma wakes up few days later, around mid-morning. You excuse yourself from the chess game you were playing with Rintarou, and you’re at Emma’s side when she opens her eyes. “Who…?”

“You can call me Safir,” you say, your tongue immediately erasing any traces of an accent in your French. The familiar language helps her relax a bit, though she still seems tired, and you wouldn’t be surprised if her brain’s taking its sweet time processing everything so the poor girl doesn’t end up overwhelmed. “I took you away from the Religious Order of Saint Joan.”

“You—wha—wait!” Emma bolts up in her spot, more than recovered enough to make the move without straining herself too hard. “I can’t just _leave_!” she says, grabbing at your clothes, like she’s pleading for an alternative reality. “I’m supposed to be La Pucelle! I’m supposed to save everyone—!”

“Yeah, but do you actually want to do that?” Your question comes out probably a bit too harsh, but you can’t keep it back. Emma’s been brainwashed, raised to meet the whims of her shitty Religious Order. If she doesn’t recognize that her true desire isn’t to live up to their expectations, she won’t be able to recover properly. “Emma Michelle, can you honestly tell me you want to save the world for them?”

_Do you really want to save the world for people who put you through hell?_

“I—I’m supposed to—” Her face scrunches up, and you can see the tears forming in her eyes. She lets go of you, hands pressing to her head. “NO! No, I don’t want to do it anymore! I’m so tired of everything! _Please_ , I don’t _want_ to—”

“Okay.”

Emma peers up at you, and you recognize the look of fear, of expecting punishment for speaking against what she’s supposed to do. You see the way it starts to melt into confusion from your response. “…huh?”

“I said okay. If you don’t want to save the world, then you don’t have to.” You smile, ease yourself into the role of a comforter. There will be time for retribution later; right now, Emma needs someone that will let her know it’s okay, someone that will keep her safe. “You can stay here with me and my friends. You can live whatever kind of life you want. I’ll make sure of it.”

“I…” Emma looks down, embarrassed. “I don’t know what kind of life I want. I just know that I don’t want to be La Pucelle anymore…”

“That’s okay. You’re still young. You have plenty of time to figure things out.” You sit down on the side of the bed, making sure to give Emma enough space so that she doesn’t feel caged in. “If you want to stay with us, you can. If you want to go somewhere else, I’ll make it happen. No matter what, I’ll make sure the Religious Order of Saint Joan can’t hurt you ever again.” You put a hand to your chest and dip your head in a bow. “This is my vow to you.” Another promise you’ll uphold, no matter what.

Those words are enough for Emma’s tears to well up and spill over—but these aren’t tears of panic or fear. These are tears of relief, and you ask for her permission to rub her back, only moving closer when she gives her watery consent. And while you know the Emma before you and canon Emma are two different people in two different timelines, what they both needed was the same: someone to protect them until they could learn to protect themselves, someone to give them a love they were fully denied of.

You let Emma cry as long as she needs to, pass her tissues, rub her back, give her a soothing presence in the room. You don’t even mind how long it takes. Eventually, after the first round of crying fades, Emma sniffles into her twentieth tissue. “Can I really…stay here with you? I don’t have to go back?”

“If that’s what you want.” Emma nods, and that just settles it. Her first decision made of her own free will—and if anyone tries to disrespect it, you still have some creative spells you can unleash in retaliation. “Alright, then it’s settled. We’ll go shopping for new things for you soon. Oh, and let me know what your favorite food is. We’ll go get some to celebrate it. Ah, but first—”

There’s so much that comes next. Legal custody, getting her the essentials. You know Luna won’t say no to going shopping. And Rintarou will be a grouch, but he’ll come along, anyways, because that’s just how he is. Oh, and Emma will need her own debit card, too, so you’ll have to set that up while you’re out. But in this moment, none of that is the most important thing.

You give Emma a gentle hug and drop a kiss on top of her hair. “Welcome home, Emma.” Her breath hitches, and you can feel the moisture of a fresh round of tears soaking through your shirt.

“…I’m home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, reading the second volume of the novels: Wow, fuck the Religious Order of Saint Joan—
> 
> Thanks for the kudos, folks. You're all champs.
> 
> Anyways, here's Luna, Emma, and some past life trauma, along with more OP shenanigans. To be continued in part three whenever my order for the third novel finally decides to stop being on backorder after the holiday rush.
> 
> Happy holidays, happy new year, and may we all have a (at least a little bit) better 2021 in store for us.
> 
> -Avi
> 
> [12.31.2020]

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one shot, I swear to god, I say, already thinking of follow up pieces and other nonsense that Safir, Rintarou, and Luna can all get into.
> 
> I've always wanted to go ham and write a self-insert sort of "character is a reincarnation that has knowledge of canon events" kind of thing (and I have a few other drafts of stuff like that hidden in my docs, but those got too long to be standalones, so-). I also wanted to play around with the "okay, but seriously I'm too OP for this nonsense" trope, and considering that Last Round Arthurs handles both of these things, why not just go and have a wild time, my brain seemed to insist as it gave me the idea for a 5k word one shot only eighty pages into the first light novel.
> 
> I give aggressive piles of credit to the works of Vroomian for inspiring this style, and even more inspiration drawn specifically from their knb fic Horsehoes & Hand Grenades.
> 
> Safir's name comes from, like, the only foreign member I could find of the Knights of the Round, though he isn't considered one of the main twelve, so I don''t foresee any complications with LRA canon. If there is, then, well, *shrug*.
> 
> If I'm being one-hundred percent honest this will ultimately morph into a one shot collection, but I'm not letting myself write any more until at least the second volume comes out in the States in May, and possibly even a bit longer because I'm making massive headway on Aviantei for the first time in years.
> 
> Stay safe during COVID-19, folks, and thanks for reading!


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